— You're distracting me. Go away.
— I can't. I'm involved now. You let go, and I'm going to have to jump in there after you.
— Paris for me... was more than living on the streets... and trying to put it on the paper, do you know what I mean?
— My dream has always been to just run away and become an artist... living in a garret, poor but free.
— You wouldn't last two days. There's no hot water and hardly ever any caviar.
— I happen to hate caviar. And I hate people telling me what dreams I should and shouldn't have. I'm sorry. You're right. Well, all right. Everybody expects me to be this delicate little flower, which I'm not. I'm sturdy. I'm strong as a horse. I'm here to do something, not just sit around and be decorative.
— Jack, must you go?
— Time for me to row with the other slaves.
— Jack, I want you to draw me like one of your French girls. Wearing this.
— All right.
— Wearing only this... The last thing I need... is another picture of me looking like a porcelain doll. As a paying customer... I expect to get what I want.
— She's a goddamn liar! Some nutcase seeking money or publicity. Like that Russian babe, Anesthesia. Rose Dewitt Bukater died on the Titanic when she was seventeen, right?
— That's right.
— If she had lived, she'd be over one hundred by now.
— One hundred and one newxt month.
— Okay, so she's a very old goddamn liar.
There were 20 boats floating near by and only one came back. One. Six were saved from the water, myself included. Six out of 1500.
— You don't understand. If we go back, they'll swamp the boat. They'll pull us right down.
— Knock it off. You're scaring me. Come on, girls, grab an oar. Let's go!
— Are you out of your mind? We're in the middle of the North Atlantic! Now, do you people want to live or do you want to die?
— I don't understand a one of you. What's the matter with you? It's your men out there! There's plenty of room for more.
— And there'll be one less on this boat if you don't shut that hole in your face!